Embers of Life
by BlindFury the Ultimate
Summary: The Final Flame was suppose to destroy her, yet she survived. Awaking from slumber days after Ghirlandaios fall, Selvaria sets out with the remains of her squad to join Squad 7 in their battle against Prince Maximilian. But ghosts of the past haunt her as much as demons of the present, and soon she's struggling just to survive. Can she be redeemed before the past consumes her?
1. Prologue

**Author's Note****: And so the story starts over. For those unaware, this is a new and improved version of Embers of Life, which I felt needed to be redone despite the positive reviews it received. It follows the same plot as the original, yet many parts have been rearranged and expanded on. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as you did the original.**

**-BlindFury the Ultimate**

* * *

_**Embers of Life: Prologue**  
_

_Outcast... betrayer... a young woman born with great power and promise who threw it all away to follow her heart. Such is the tale of Osthato Ikonoka: The Soulless Monster._

_When the young girl was born, like all Valkyria that came before her, she was to be inspected by one of the tribe's Elders. Should deformity in the flesh or any other sign of weakness be found, the newborn was declared unfit for further ascension and discarded. If the child could not pass from the safety of its mother's womb into the world beyond, if they were unable to pass the first true test of the living, how could they possibly hope to survive in a land where only the strong could survive? There was no room for weakness in a culture based upon feats of strength and combat, where only the victorious could rise to the elite of their society._

_For the young Elza, daughter of Aurelia the Farseeing, it was her destiny to join this elite._

_Even at a young age the Elders could see the girl was special. For the first nine years of her life they watched on as she grew. Watched as her power began to develop with a speed never before seen in the Valkyrur's entire history. When her training began on her tenth birthday, as was their custom, she surpassed all the high expectations placed upon her time and time again with seemingly little effort. What took the older and more mature Valkyria years to achieve, she could master in just a few short months, sometimes only weeks. When combined with her desire to learn and a wisdom far beyond her years, Elza's potential seemed unlimited, and her progress amazing, earning the title of 'the Prodigy' to her name. By the time her eighteenth birthday had come and gone she had already earned the right through combat to lead Queen Valkyrur's royal guard, becoming the youngest Valkyria to ever reach such high station. In this stretch of time, neither treachery nor defeat blemished her unparalleled ascension. __Truth be told, the only real obstacle that prevented her from becoming a full Elder, the highest position in the Valkyrian culture below Queen Valkyrur herself, was her youth. Even that appeared a trivial matter, delaying what many already saw as inevitable._

_Perhaps she could have one day again become the youngest to reach such position. Perhaps she could have one day have earned the right to call herself an Elder of her people had fate not intervened, turning the Valkyrur's greatest prodigy against them._

_It all began little over a year before what would later become known to history as the War of the Valkyrur. For centuries the Valkyria had _loathed_ the very existence of the Darcsen tribes that inhabitated the land near the heart of Europa, believing them to be an inferior race hardly above the foul beasts they hunted. Dark tales of their "greedy and evil ways" had spread like wildfire over the years, distorting the line between fact and fiction to the point it was impossible to determine one from the other. This one-sided animosity from the Valkyrur ironically came from an inferiority found in their own race, for while they were blessed with many gifts, the Valkyria were not self-sufficient. The mountainous regions in the north were rich in the ragnite needed for their weapons and armour, but lacked other essential resources necessary to sustain their people. With the threat of starvation a very real possibility, war with the Darcsens soon became a matter of when, not if._

___At the time, Elza had appeared to be a natural selection to become the tip of the spear for the Valkyrur's war effort. Instead of leading a direct invasion however, they chose an alternative method for a first strike. First they would remove the snake's head, knowing the body would soon follow. __For a fortnight she travelled, her speed decreasing in favor of caution the closer she was to reaching the Darcsen city of Narda, known today as the Gallia's capital city of Randgriz. She waited for darkness to descend upon the land before making her move, effortlessly infiltrating the castle and cutting down all the guards in her path. Everything seemed to be going well until she reached the room where her target lay resting. Silent as the night surrounding her, she charged in with the intent to kill, only to freeze up when she saw his face._

_She didn't exactly know what to expect when it came to the appearance of the Darcsen leader, but the tales that surrounded Orion had given her the impression of a weathered and weary old man. It shocked Elza to discover that, rather than the old man she imagined, Orion appeared to be roughly the same age, at most a couple years older than her. For the first time in her life the young valkyria hesitated, halted by the unfamiliar grip of doubt and uncertainty. However she was quick to recover, berateing herself for her moment of weakness as she moved to kill him a second time._

_That moment, small and instantaneous as it was, proved to be all the time needed for success to turn to disaster._

_____What exactly happened has never been properly determined. A popular reiteration of the story is that the Darcsen leader already knew of an approaching assassin and had simply feigned sleep to draw them in closer. Another version tells of a pair of guards that had found the bodies of the guards Elza had killed earlier, chancing upon her as they rushed into Orion's room to warn him of the danger. Regardless of the reason, the facts remained the same. For the first time in her life, Elza had failed to complete her mission._

_________Events following Elza's capture are fractured at best, most of it lost for eternity with only the smallest of scraps remaining to piece together the true history that preceded the War of the Valkyrur. All we really know is that Elza was spared of execution, as this was not the Darcsen way._

_________Instead, Orion treated his attempted murderer as if she were an honoured guest, allowing one of the Valkyria to see the Darcsen's world in all its glory for as long as she was among them. Initially cold-heartened and bitter to those around her, Elza gradually began to take in her new surroundings with something akin to awe. Indeed, the Darcsens were an intriguing people. From the moment they woke they devoted themselves to the perfection of whatever it was they pursued, their discipline proving equal if not greater than that of the Valkyrur themselves. In their eyes they were all equal, working together to form a better society for all, regardless of upbringing. Elza was also surprised to learn the word Darcsen meant 'to serve', and that Orion believed his life to be in the service of his people, willing to sacrifice anything to ensure their safety. He was not the monster the Valkyrur portrayed him to be, but a kind and honest leader worthy of respect._

_________The more she learned about the Darcsen tribes, the more she came to realize the lies and slander of her own people. Guilt filled her heart as she realized her race had condemned another for crimes they had never committed. The Darcsens were peaceful and innocent, most unaware of the stigma branded upon them by Valkyrian lore. Their kindness to her, a stranger, a warrior from a land of war and battle only made it hurt all the more. She began to question why such misunderstanding came about between the two nations and why no one had ever attempted to fix it. Her loyalty to her people never truly recovered once such thoughts entered her mind, nor did she really notice as it began to waver._

_________What she did notice were other feelings she had developed. Feelings that grew stronger whenever Orion was near, causing a sudden tightness in her chest that always left her short of breath. He always treated her as a woman over a warrior, admiring her more for her grace and beauty than how she wielded a lance in combat. In time, their heated arguments turned to time spent alone together, learning more about the other's history and upbringing. Time and time again she tried to pull away, tried to reason that a Valkyria could never love a Darcsen the way she did. But the heart rarely listens to reason from the mind, and exactly one year from the night she was first captured, the two gave into each other and their passions for the other._

_________Unfortunately, their happiness could not last forever._

_________Believing Elza had been killed by Orion one year ago, Queen Valkyrur ordered her former Captain of the guard, Deyanira the Shadow of Flame, to train and prepare three of her finest soldiers and lead them on Elza's previous mission to eliminate the Darcsen leader. One of these three chosen, known throughout the Valkyrur's lore as Nakali the Crimson Blade, was said to be the strongest soldier in the Queen's army, her twin blades permanently dyed red from the blood of her fallen enemies in battles past. The other two chosen were Neoma the Swift, the youngest but also of the same generation as Nakali, and Kendrath the Dauntless, a warrior who had served as Elza's right hand and most loyal servant. Both were known for their power and possessing great skill that was second only to their loyalty to the Valkyrian prodigy._

_________They left for Narda with a vengeance, seeking to avenge the loss of their fallen prodigy and deliver a decisive opening strike against the Darcsen tribes. Upon discovering Elza was alive and well, living peacefully with the enemy, Nakali, Kendrath and Neoma were overjoyed to see their sister, relieved that rumours surrounding her death to be false. _

_________At the same time, Deyanira's shock mutated into an uncontrollable rage. She attacked without hesitation, calling Elza soulless, corrupted by the Darcsen's dark magic. Nothing could be said to stop the old captain, who ordered Neoma and Kendrath to kill Elza while she and Nakali attacked the city itself. So great was the old captain's fury that more than half the city was wreathed in flames within the hour, countless innocents slaughtered in a matter of minutes. But by doing so the three Valkyrur under her command, already doubting much of what the Queen had said and their people as a whole, lost what little loyalty that remained for the old captain and turned on her._

_________It was in this chaos that Elza made her choice. Forsaking her title as the Valkyrur's greatest prodigy, she fought back against the Shadow of Flames, protecting her love and his people in their hour of need. The old northern script speaks of a great battle that lasted many days, a glorious and deadly display of power that shook the entire planet to its core. It is said that Deyanira was killed during the battle, killed by Nakali as Kendrath and Neoma tended to Elza's wounds, of which there were many. Their loyalty to their friend proved greater than the loyalty to their people. It was the first battle of the War of the Valkyrur, and it ended in a stunning defeat for the Valkyria, costing them four of their finest warriors._

_The rest of the war is told by what remains of the Old Northern Script, again with many pieces missing and to this day only a few key battles have ever been found and accurately translated. With her love and her newfound generals at her side, Elza led the weak and inexperienced Darcsens to victory in the __month long siege atop Mount Tarvus, survived the chaos that was the __Battle of Rhak Vir, and captured the city of Danika in hopes of attacking the Valkyrian Capital itself._

_Despite her best efforts however, they could only delay the inevitable. Nakali was the first to fall, killed by Queen Valkyrur herself on the outskirts of the Valkyrur's captial city. Neoma left not much later with the Darcsens too old or weak to fight, seeking shelter by heading north towards a place known only to history as the Forsaken Mountains. Her exact fate was never properly determined. Some tales say she survived, while others are less optimistic._

_In the waning hours of the War of the Valkyrur, when one of the more influential Darcsen clans turned their back on Elza in a key moment, the Valkyrur were able to capture their prodigy-turned-enemy and end the war once and for all. Orion met his end during this final battle, but Elza's fate was never determined. Some say she was rescued by Neoma but was still wounded beyond any healer's skill and died but a few hours later, surrounded by friends comrades she had sacrificed so much for. Others speak of her final act of defiance, sacrificing her soul to fuel the fire that destroyed the city that once dominated the land known today as the Barious ruins. Which of these tales holds more credibility is an answer never to be answered._

_Though she did not succeed in saving everyone, it is thanks to Elza and her allies that the Darcsens survived the war at all. They were forced into slavery and would be prosecuted for the stigma of the past over many centuries, but they would survive, and one day soon they will rise and see themselves equals with the rest of society once again._

_Their numbers reduced to a mere handful of what it once was, Queen Valkyrur refused to have the truth of the war altered in any way, desiring their fallen prodigy be remembered for all that she had achieved, regardless of her betrayal. Instead the Elders added a tale of caution to all future generations with their retelling of history. It spoke of Osthato Ikonaka, a Valkyria turned monster by the Darcsens evil magic that burned the lands during the Darcsen Calamity that lead to Elza's abandoning of Danika when the monster's instability raged out of control. Osthato, became a warning to all Valkyria, warning all of the dangers of the Final Flame and the consequences for unleashing it. For if any Valkyria were to repeat the crimes of the Soulless Monster, they too would share the monster's punishment._

_But with every end there is a new beginning, and every beginning an end. Nearly two thousand years from the end of the great war, another Valkyria was forced into unleashing the Final Flame upon the land, destroying the great citadel of Ghirlandaio. With the end of Elza's tale, another begins to take form, ghosts of the past colliding with demons of the present. But what marks the ending of this tale... that... that is for my little sister to decide..._


	2. Survivors

**Author's Note****: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and read the first chapter. It is you readers who inspire me to add more chapters. ****Also, I will be adding several Character Bios for future characters, similar to the Squad 7 bios. Check my profile for details.**

**Linksroyal: It was actually Darkwarrior's story that inspired my own, and I appreciate your help. **

**Other than that, I hope you enjoy the new chapter and promise to post the next as soon as possible.  
- BlindFury the Ultimate**

* * *

**_Embers of Life:_ Survivors**

_A sullen orange and crimson sky, highlighted by the cobalt flames that spread out in every direction with supernatural speed, consuming the citadel in its wake. The wind howled loudly past his ears, carrying with it the cries of death. As the effects of the blast finally cleared, he saw only a graveyard where Ghirlandaio once stood…_

_His heart hammered deeply in his throat as they moved ever closer to the remnants of the fortress. They knew what the odds were that the General had somehow survived the blast, knew what the odds were of finding anyone alive, but they at least had to try…_

_He found her, much to his disbelief, emerging from the rubble somewhere near the centre of the debris. She held her head high, with a queen's demeanor, her Valkyrian flame burning brightly around her. Chills shot through his spine as her ruby-red eyes met his hazel ones…_

_Running forward, he barely managed to catch her unconscious form before it struck the ground. It was as if t__he Valkyrur Goddesses of Old had come down from the heavens and saved one of their own from death. __Exhaustion radiated from her body, just like how relief began to surge through him at the now confirmed fact she was alive.…_

_That was, until he felt something warm and sticky running down his arms. It was blood... Selvaria's blood. Relief changed to horror as he pulled back, seeing the wounds that were forming all over her paling skin. Panic once again settled in as he started shouting for the others. She needed medical attention now! The bleeding… Oh, Mother of Valkyrur, the horrible bleeding…_

* * *

Johann blinked, disoriented as the memories retreated from him. Cursing under his breath, he ran his tongue several times over his teeth, trying in vain to eradicate the taste of bile and blood that filled his mouth. Failing, he simply gave up, drawing a deep breath and releasing it slowly through his nose. He needed to keep his mind focused on the present.

In front of him, the low mounds of coals throbbed like the heart of some giant beast. Occasionally, a patch of gold sparks flared into existence and raced across the surface of the wood before vanishing into a white-hot crevice. The dying remnants of the fire he and Otto had built cast an eery red light over the surrounding area, revealing a patch of rocky soil, a travel-worn tent off to his left, a few pewter-gray stone pieces of Ghirlandaio's outer wall and skeletal remains of some tanks farther off, then nothing. Nothing but the darkness of the night. It was the third nightfall since the blast, yet even without the sun's light he knew the thick black smoke was still rising into the air and blocking out the stars above.

Johann sat close to the embers - grateful for the warmth - with his back propped up against his duffel bag. His helmet and upper body pieces of armour lay in a neat pile at his side. Opposite him, Otto sat down upon an iron-hard, sun-bleached, win-worn shell of an ancient tree trunk that had somehow escaped the chaos of the earlier events unscathed. Every time he moved, the trunk would produce a bitter shriek that made Johann want to claw at his ears.

Of the entire Imperial battalion that were stationed at Ghirlandaio, only five of its soldiers remained. The rest were either prisoners being escorted to Randgriz by the Gallian militia… or dead. Turned to ash in the explosion that had destroyed Ghirlandaio. Johann was quite frankly amazed that he wasn't one of them.

For the moment, quiet reigned within the small camp. Even the coals smoldered in silence. Otto could only find small branches, few as there were, that were already devoid of moisture. Though the hour was late and both were tired from the days events, neither man making a move to retire. Johann suspected it had more to do with Selvaria than it did anything else. He tried, but just couldn't stop worrying about her.

He still remembered vividly how he had found her in the command center the day before Gallia attacked Ghirlandaio, on her knees and crying softly by herself after giving her report to His Grace, Maximilian. He had waited just outside while she selflessly put the blame on herself for the Empire's defeat at Naggiar, begging Maximilian for another chance to prove her worth and be redeemed in his eyes. It pained him to listen to Selvaria as she berated herself for her failure. A failure that none under her command saw as her fault. There was no way they could have predicted Gallia had a Valkyria of their own, much less expect her to emerge and suddenly reverse the flow of battle when victory seemed so close at hand. Though Johann did not hear the prince's reply, Selvaria quickly agreed to it. _"More than anything!"_ she had said, sounding almost_ desperate_ before her voice too became too soft for him to overhear.

Though he never heard what was said, Johann knew it had not been the forgiveness Selvaria had hoped for. A sudden thud, perhaps Selvaria falling to her knees, followed by an argument between the prince and General Jaeger, who was also present to deliver a message of his own. The apathy in His Grace's voice as he justified whatever response he had given to Selvaria horrified Johann.

His Grace left not too long after that, emotionless mask in place, ignoring the foot soldier as he passed. Jaeger left a moment later, a mix of shame and anger on the face of a man who was normally so calm, sometimes outright jovial in the face of danger. That, more than his silence when asked what had happened, told Johann just how serious the whole situation was. He entered the command centre then, and it was fear more than anything that pushed him forward.

Ever since they had first met, Johann had been constantly amazed by her strength, her courage and her determination as she pushed forward to defeat her enemies time and time again. She was the woman who had helped transform him from the meek engineer he had been to the brave scout known to Gallia as Ozwald the Iron. As one of the Triumviri, she was seemingly without equal, besting the forces of both the Federation and Gallia with only the smallest of losses on her part. She always led at the front of the charge, not cowering in the back while sending countless men to their deaths. She was a commander worth fighting for.

...To see her broken and teary-eyed like that, _begging_ him not to let anyone know the state she was in broke his heart. A simple "please", before breaking down and crying into his shoulder, with no attempt whatsoever to preserve her dignity. Reluctantly he had agreed, silently holding her as she cried, unsure what to do.

A fountain of amber motes billowed and swirled as Otto tossed another branch onto the disintegrating coals. He caught his best friend's look and shrugged. "Cold," he said. He had hardened over the last few months, Johann observed. He had also hardened a lot thanks to the war, but with Otto, something special had been lost. There was no longer any spark of joy in his eyes, nor was there the witty banter he used to express at almost every opportunity. The war had damaged him mentally, more so than it had physically.

Before Johann could respond, both men heard the sound of leather sliding over metal. Turning towards it, he saw Ghirlandaio's fourth survivor exiting the tent. His massive frame, well over seven feet tall even without the armour, barely fit inside the tent.

Eloc Oxford, 'the Beast of Theoks' from Fhirald was the largest lancer serving in the Empire. His arms and legs were as thick around as tree trunks, his large broad shoulders twice as wide as any normal man. The man was almost literally a walking tank, as silent as he was deadly in combat. Unless it was to say something urgent, the man almost never spoke a word. With three long strides, the lancer reached the minuscule campfire and took his own seat beside Otto. Removing his helmet, revealing chiseled features and a thick moustache and beard that normally hid behind the facemask, he turned to face Johann. Any other person would have seen the man grunt once and motion behind him with his head, nothing else. Johann, knowing better, saw the message hidden beneath it: the Lieutenant wanted to see him. _Now_. Quickly, he got to his feet and headed for the tent. After only the slightest hesitation, he entered.

Ghirlandaio's fifth and last survivor had his back was turned to him when the flap opened. Not out of disrespect, but because he was tending to a more demanding matter. It didn't really matter to Johann: the man was a father figure to many of the squad, and he had seen more than his fair share of combat.

First Lieutenant Carn Nitsew was a man who had celebrated his sixty-second birthday just over a month ago, yet he was anything but a crippled old man. He was second-in-command under Selvaria, and in combat alone he could move and fight like a man forty years younger, always leaving people wondering what he was like back in his prime. His short, jet-black hair had faded as the years passed by, yet not a single gray hair could be found. The same went for the for the closely trimmed mustache and beard that covered his chin and upper lip. A long, jagged scar ran down the left side of his face, a mark left by the first Europan War.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Johann asked, the tent flap settling behind him. The Lieutenant nodded calmly, not deviating from his current task. He spoke to Johann without looking over.

"Yes, I did. Have a seat, lad. I'll be with you in a moment."

Beside the Lieutenant lay their only field medical kit. It was scuffed up and missing a couple of key utensils, but it was the best they had to work with. Pulling out a canister of ragnite from the kit, the Lieutenant twisted it open and applied it to the wound on his Selvaria's left shoulder. The skin reacted to the glowing material and knitted itself back together is seconds. However, just as the ragnite was used up and put away, the fresh skin opened up again. It did not bleed this time, like it had before, but it still turned an unnatural black afterward, forming odd markings that smelt of burnt flesh. Surprising, considering the black skin was as cold as ice.

Even without the wounds that refused to heal, her body still looked like a mad artist, in a flood of inspiration, had marred it with lines that couldn't be erased. At least she had not stirred for a while, like when they had first found her. Then, she had woken often, her moods random and unpredictable - sometimes bewildered, sometimes violently angry, sometimes crying uncontrollably. Sometimes, she would simply stare at the ceiling, her face pensive and unreadable, until they were unsure if she was thinking or simply lost in her own mind, before falling into unconsciousness again. The silence in between such bouts was the worst, Johann though, for it was in that time he was struck by how fragile she was now.

Thankfully, the Lieutenant did not give him time to dwell on it this time. With another sigh, he cleaned up the medical supplies before turning his attention to him.

"I have a theory about what is happening to the lass, but I need you to be completely honest with me, lad," he stated, "Tell me everything you remembered after you found her. Don't leave out any details. Even if you think they're unnecessary, they might help uncover the problem."

Johann swallowed nervously. He had never heard the Lieutenant so serious before. Quickly he told the Lieutenant all he remembered, from when he first heard the stone shifting a small distance away, up until she started bleeding in his arms from wounds she did not have moments ago.

"And you're sure about that? You didn't overlook them the first time?"

"Absolutely, sir. She was exhausted, but I know she wasn't covered in blood when I found her."

Silence surrounded them as the Lieutenant pondered the information. He glanced over at Selvaria several times during the silence, as if she held the answer to the problem. Finally, he broke the silence, but did not start in the way Johann expected he would.

"How much do you know of Valkyrur's tales about Osthato Ikonoka?"

"Sir?" said Johann, confused. When Carn did not elaborate, he continued, "...N-not much really... Only that she was the Valkyria corrupted by Darcsen magic during the War of the Valkyrur. Why?"

Carn stared straight ahead, almost as if lost in thought. "She was a warrior who believed herself without equal, born with a power second only to Queen Valkyrur herself that grew stronger everyday. More powerful than all her peers, Osthato believed that given enough time, she would replace the Queen and lead them to future glory. But as her power grew, so too did her arrogance, her pride often causing her to lash out at all she deemed inferior to herself. As the incidents of Osthato's cruelty grew more and more numerous, the Queen realized the possible reality of a tyrant assuming her place, and chose Elza the Prodigy of the Valkyrur, the very same Valkyria that later sided with and lead the Darcsen forces, to take her place. Enraged at the decision, Osthato abandoned her people, disappearing under the cover of darkness. She left no trail to follow, erasing all traces of herself from the city she was born and raised in, even her true name. A year passed without any sightings of her, until the day the Darcsen tribes began their conquest for all of Europa."

"The War of the Valkyrur." Johann breathed. Carn only gave a brief nod before continuing.

"It is unknown what Elza bribed her with - power, status, revenge against those she believed to have wronged her - all the Valkyrur knew was that two of their once promising warriors were now the tip of the spear for the Darcsens war effort. But Osthato was no longer a Valkyria, not in any sense of the word. As you said, she was corrupted, twisted by Darcsen magic, reduced to a ruined and twisted form of life. Osthato Ikonoka, the 'Soulless Monster' had been unleashed. She slaughtered many of her former sisters, destroyed countless cities, and it wasn't until Natvir the Wolfheart joined the war alongside Queen Valkyrur and engaged the monster directly that they were able to subdue their former ally-turned-fiend. With their monster captured, Elza and the Darcsen tribes soon lost the War of the Valkyrur and were punished for their crimes... But this was not the end."

"What was meant as an act of mercy for their fallen sister turned into one last act of rampage and destruction for the Soulless Monster. With her dying breath, she unleashed all her power in a single blast of energy, a final flame of the Valkyria, destroying their capital city, and annihilating most of the population, including the Queen. It was a lost the Valkyrur never truly recovered from."

The connection between the story and the Lieutenant's current theory was obvious, and serious. "And you think... you think General Bles..."

"Unleashed the Final Flame herself, yes. Maybe it was an accident, maybe something she triggered accidentally. Or maybe she had no choice in the matter." The Lieutenant sighed, gazing down at Selvaria with a father's worry. "I confess I did not think it to be more than an old legend myself, but after everything that's happened, I fear things will only get worse for her... Assuming she even survives. "

"What do you mean?" Johann swallowed nervously. "Get's worse for her how?...Sir."

"If the old legends of Osthato Ikonoka, the War and Fall of the Valkyrur were all true, how many more of the Valkyrur's tales do we have to worry about?"

A small gasp and whimper suddenly came from Selvaria, startling both of them. Her eyes moved back and forth beneath the lids, arms lifting feebly in the air, but she did not stir from her unconsciousness. It was only when she stopped struggling that either man calmed.

Silence again enshrouded them in its holds. This time, however, neither man attempted to end it. Eventually, the Lieutenant left the tent saying there was nothing more that could be done, leaving Johann alone with Selvaria. Every so often, his eyes would brush over her face, and he no longer bothered to act like he wasn't doing it, or that it didn't mean anything. Taking off the glove he'd forgotten, he tucked it under his belt and reached to hold her hand. The calluses she had earned from her rifle brought a brief smile to his lips, but it disappeared as a single question - one he felt selfish for thinking after everything the Lieutenant had told him - lilt in his mind.

Did she know?

Everyone else seemed to. A gentle, knowing grin he caught from Oxford when the huge man saw the two of them talking. Then there was a smirk and a nod of approval from Otto when they were talking after the last battle, him stammering and barely able to look her in the eye without his face going red. Hell, Carn pretty much knew about his feelings for her before he even did. To say nothing of how he was the first Carn he had told about Selvaria's condition.

His mind was in turmoil. What if she never woke up, if she stayed comatose like this forever? Or worse, what if it was like Carn said, and this was only the start of things to come? Just the thought alone chilled him to the 'd known her only half a year, but he hadn't realized until now how much of a constant she was, or how much of a difference she'd made to him. He couldn't imagine losing her. He should have told her before how much he cared about her. Everyone else feared her, feared her power, but Johann was able to see through that. He had seen past her proud, noble appearance and saw the lonely young woman buried beneath.

As he sat by her, and time ticked past, marked only by her erratic, shallow little breaths, he began to make promises, desperate wishes. If she woke up, he'd tell her that he cared about her. He'd make sure she knew that everything he would say, he'd meant it. And most of all, he'd protect her. Protect her from anything that came her way. He thought back to his first battle at Ghirlandaio, how he fearlessly braved gunfire and tank shells just to rescue her from Gallia's treacherous ragnite gas. And that was even _before _he changed into the man known in Gallia as Ozwald the Iron.

He promised himself that he would do that again. He promised he would protect her… if she would only wake _up_…


	3. Pain and Darkness

**Author's note: Apologies for the delay. Unexpected problems and a pair of Uiversity finals forced my hand and I needed more time to finish this. Next one won't take as long, I promise. This chapter also ****turns our attention away from Elza the Prodigy and now focuses on the origins of another Valkyria... and what remains of her family. **

**Reviews of course are always welcome. They help me more than you realize.**

**-BlindFury the Ultimate**

* * *

_She sat with her back against the wall, anxious, yet ready. A current of air tickled her skin, then paused and reversed itself as pressure from the outside waxed and waned. The cycle repeated itself at inconsistent intervals, creating invisible eddies that brushed against her skin like fountains of roiling water. Her breathing was calm in comparison to the assortment of other sounds that propagated outside her holding cell. Chief among them was the slow yet steady rhythm of the jailer's obnoxious snoring and the steady _'doink… doink… doink…'_ of condensed droplets striking the floor just off to her left. __Of the smells, none were new: blood from wounds that had yet to fully heal, sweat from the heat and other hazards found within the facility, and mold that festered in the corners of the cells. She was beginning to wonder if it was a bad thing that she was accustomed to it by now._

_Outside her window, a column of soldiers marched down the road, each carrying their rifles off to the left side of their bodies. Every man was dressed in matching black, red and golden armour, their faces hidden behind the helmets they wore and their feet came down on the ground with a mechanical precision, not once missing a beat. It was an impressive display of force. A force that had watched over her and the other "subjects" ever since she was first brought here, too young to even remember how long ago that was._

_For all the talk of how the children had been blessed to be chosen for this project would one day rise from the ashes as the saviours of the Empire, both the scientists and the soldiers that aided them seemed to go out of their way to inspire dissent and rebellion. __Countless experiments, each more dangerous than the last, with harsh punishments and beatings dealt out for any infraction, no matter how slight. __It was as if they only saw the number and letter that was all but branded to their skin, and this was all the justification they needed to do what they did. More than once a group of subjects had "washed out" of the program, and one of the scientist would come and explain how they were sent either back to their homes or other neighbouring facilities. While this would satisfy the youngest, some of which were only the age of three of four, the older subjects, ranging as far as seventeen, knew the real reason and began to wonder when it would be their turn to conveniently "wash out"._

___She watched the soldiers march in formation a little longer until she grew bored. Returning to her spot against the one clean wall, she continued to gaze ahead into nothingness. The cell wasn't that large, enough for only half a dozen steps in either direction, and was meant as a temporary measure until she would be relocated somewhere else within the facility again. But despite this imprisonment, she was happy. Today was her eighth birthday, and her big brother had promised to give her the best thing in the world for a girl in her current position: freedom. He had everything planned out, had spent months preparing for this very day and soon everything would be different. Once they were free, they would finally get the chance to live the normal life they deserved, and she would get to see her mother for the first time._

_____It had been so long ago that she had almost forgotten. Truthfully, she did not remember much about the day when they had both been taken from their home, only that the sun had begun to set in the distance and a pair of men in black-gold uniforms had helped her into the vehicle. The time after that was a blur in her memories until she had found herself in the back of an even larger cargo truck, huddled closely together among roughly a dozen other children. Most were girls, with only two or three other boys counted among them, their ages ranging from as young as she was to slightly older than her brother. None of them had dared to break the silence that hung over them with oppressive force, each looking around while wearing an expression of fear and confusion. It felt as if centuries had passed since then, though the reality was only four years._

___It was almost time. She just had to be a good little girl and wait for him. Just a little bit longer…_

_She was diverted from her thoughts when the doors to the detention cells suddenly opened, a single shock trooper entering a moment later. A1 also saw that the jailer was awake now, and after a few seconds of conversation with the new trooper, started getting angry. "I said you can't go in there!" he argued, "Doctor Foster's orders were clear: no one is to see her!"_

_"Is that so?" cut in a smooth voice, "And will you be the one to stop me from performing my duty, Captain?"_

___There was a subdued "N-no... b-but if Doctor Forster-"_

_"There's been a change in plans," the soldier snapped. ____"A7 has escaped from his cell. The good doctor wants us to use her as bait in order to flush him out. Now unlock that door!" __Upon hearing this, A1's heart leaped: she knew the second voice. A pity for the jailor, who apparently didn't._

_After a pause, keys jangled outside A1's cell. The door opened__-_

_"Hey, what are y-?" -_

_Her breath hitched as, with a massive 'thwack!' the jailor hit the ground, a victim of a rifle butt to the back of his skull. He moaned once, than was still. A single shock trooper entered the cell, slinging said rifle over his shoulder. He faced A1, eyes gazing down on her, and then chuckled lightly. "I'd ask if you're ready to go," he said, reaching for the clasp to his helmet, "but it looks like you've been waiting for long enough."_

_When the helmet, came off, revealing his face, A1 cried out in joy and, leaping forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged her older brother as tightly as she could. Her feet dangled several inches in the air. "Big brother!"_

_"Little sis," he replied jokingly, returning the hug. They held each other with an intimacy only a brother and sister could share. Their greatest comfort now was a simple one: they were no longer alone. To know that you were with one who cared for you, who understood every fibre of your being, and who would not abandon you even in the most desperate of circumstances, that was the most precious relationship a person could have. A7 and A1 - brother and sister - cherished this gift dearly._

_After an immeasurable time, A7 grunted. "Uh, sis? Heh... ugh, you might want to loosen your arms a bit. It's getting a little hard to breathe."_

_"Sorry."_

_Setting her down, A7 looked around, searching for anything he might have missed. Satisfied they were alone, he reached for his comm. "I__ got my sister. Everything going alright on your end, Varro?"_

_"Waiting for you." came the reply, "Hurry: it won't be long until they find out she's missing."_

_"Got it." He switched off the comm. He motioned to A1. "Come on; let's get you out of here. Remember: just stay quiet and follow my lead. You can celebrate once we're out of here." He put the shock trooper helmet back on and they left the cell together, A7 acting as a guard, escorting the 'prisoner' towards the aft section of the facility. Waiting for them there was the transport they'd use to get out of the facility forever. Assuming everything went according to plan, they'd be free in an hour or two._

* * *

**_Embers of Life: Pain and Darkness_  
**

Pain. A constant burning that seeped through skin and into every muscle, draining what little energy she had as the bones creaked as if under constant strain. It blinded her, immobilized her, leaving her little more than a husk trapped in the unknown. She couldn't move, could hardly breathe. Her hearing was the only sense that seemed to function properly, and even that was hindered, as if she was floating deep under water.

Pain was her only companion in a seemingly infinite darkness where nothing else could hope to exist. Ever so slowly, though, patches of grey had started to appear in the distance. Visions of both the past and present appeared in the gray patches and were playing through her weary mind. Unknown, jumbled, clouded and confused. Incoherent thoughts, sounds that faded in and out. Very strong emotions coursed through her and seemed to change as sudden and as randomly as the visions.

_"You're lucky you found her when you did. Any later and we would have been too late."_

_"So... she'll be okay?"_

The voices emerged without warning, clear and sharp. Were they from her memories like the other visions and images dancing around her? If so, she could not remember exactly where and when. Or were they the present, the topic of their conversation being herself? Again she was unsure.

_"Truly, lad, I do not know. She's suffered serious wounds, and the ragnite isn't doing anything to help repair the damage. That she still lives at all is a miracle in itself. What bothers me most is what other wounds she might carry."_

_"What do you mean... sir?"_

_"..."_

_"Lieutenant?"_

Even as he spoke, something told her in the back of her mind that all three of them knew it was a lie._ "... Just an old man's worry. Pay no attention to it, lad..."_

The voices vanished almost as quickly as they had appeared, replaced by the same chaotic visions, sounds, and feelings as before. Fragments of each faded in and out of her limited consciousness before melting back into the dark swirling abyss that she seemed to be floating in. Everything in her mind was just a complete jumble, nothing made any sense. Every second she felt could be centuries passing by without her knowledge. What had happened to her to be left in such a weakened state?

Slowly, though, she again began to feel something pushing through all the chaos. The voices from before? Yes, that's what they were. But whose voices were they? She couldn't tell, but a nagging sense of familiarity clung to each voice, trying to help her remember.

_"I don't like this. Perhaps it would've been better if we tried moving her."_

_"It is the Lieutenant's decision that we remain. We wait until the General recovers, then assess our options from there."_

_"Yes, but can we afford to wait that long? You saw the blast. There wasn't a single survivor for miles around! Even a Valkyria has limits to how much they can take. Her wounds haven't even started to heal, and we're running low on bandages and rags.__"_

_"True, but we must trust in the General's willpower to overcome this. She still fights, even as you lose faith."_

_"Why you ungrateful-"_

_"Enough. Both of you. Your bickering helps no one. Remove yourselves, and do not test my patience again."_

Canvas sliding over metal, then silence. A sigh escaped from one of the voices still present.

_"She would heal faster if only her powers returned. Perhaps her wounds were so bad to have cut her off from them..."_

_"For now, at least, but there's a good chance that they will return to her." _

_"She's still in pretty bad shape, though. And those... _markings _started appearing only an hour ago, but look how fast they've spread. We should move deeper into Gallia, find aid from Bruhl... or maybe even that militia squad that we-"_

_"We must give her more time, Johann... But you are right; we cannot stay here much longer if we want her to survive... Not tomorrow, but the day after if she doesn't improve. Have Otto and Oxford prepare for transport, just in case sh-"_

It struck like knives in the dark, voices forced aside as the pain of fire returned. Much stronger than before, white-hot, burning strongly in the side of her face and neck to an almost unbearable level. Ice suddenly formed in her throat, freezing her windpipe shut and cutting off what little air she could take in even as her heartbeat hammered hard in between the two extremes. Something bad was happening to her, clawing away at her bit by bit, which only added to her rising panic. She had to get out... had to stop it... WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?!


End file.
